


Monster Boy

by moon_hotel



Category: Kaiji
Genre: M/M, Season/Series 03, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-16
Updated: 2012-06-16
Packaged: 2017-11-07 21:52:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/435845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moon_hotel/pseuds/moon_hotel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Miyoshi's always wanted to meet a monster.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Monster Boy

_feeling the cold jaws of a monster slipping around his neck_

Miyoshi Tomohiro was the very definition of a "good kid." Everyone told him so, from grade school on up. He had the wide-eyed look of wonder that made other people take him aside and give him worldly advice: how to make friends, how to shake hands, how to spot conmen, how to work hard and be smart and become a straight, civilized, productive member of society. "Keep to the path," is what it all amounted to, "for beyond the road lie monsters."

"What are monsters?" he used to ask, bright and excited. "What do they look like? How do they sound? What do they eat? Can I meet one?"

"Good boys aren't supposed to ask questions like that," said the world. "Sit down and be quiet, Miyoshi."

 

 

 

He grew out of fairy tales after a while, but made monster-spotting his hobby. His heart performed backflips when he saw a delinquent smoking behind the school, or when he spied some seemingly straight-laced student cheating in class. Who knew that big, bad creatures looked just like everybody else?

"You keep fucking hanging around me," said one of his classmates, spitting the words in his face as he held Miyoshi to the wall. "You think I can't see you? What's your fucking problem?"

"A-ah," he sputtered, trembling in the boy's grip. "Um, um--"

He leaned forward, his eyes narrowing behind his dark glasses. "You like me or something?"

"No!" Miyoshi exploded, terrified. "N-not like that! I just--I just think--you're  _interesting!"_ The other kid stared at him intensely, and Miyoshi trembled harder, a bead of sweat working its way down his forehead, his knees knocking in his pants. 

"P-please don't hurt me," he whimpered, and a warm, excited feeling shook in his stomach. "Please."

 

 

He didn't have that feeling for a long, long time after that. Even when he fell in with bad crowds and gambled too much and got sent to the underground prison, he felt awfully detached from the whole experience. The closest he came was when he stared at Kaiji, that mysterious man (though they were the same age, he always seemed much older), when he was lost in thought. Those sharklike features and keen eyes gave him a little bit of a thrill, but Kaiji was tough to figure out, and Miyoshi had never been one for hard work.

"Ohtsuki was pretty much a monster," he whispered one night, lying awake in his bunk bed. "But that was way too personal. It's really hard to be interested in someone if you hate them so much, I think."

There was quiet, and then Maeda's voice came from above him. "Why are you so interested in bad people?" he asked. 

Miyoshi smiled up at the bottom of his bed. "I don't know. They're just neat, I guess. Don't you think so?"

"When we get out, I'm sticking right by you," Maeda grumbled. "A kid like you needs a chaperone."

Miyoshi thought he was joking, but from the day they were released, Maeda never left his side. But even if his intent had been to be Miyoshi's guardian, he never protested or guided him or steered him in any way. Even when Miyoshi first made eye contact with that dark-haired, greasy-looking man, he only felt the squeeze of Maeda's hand on his, then nothing.

 

 

 

"So, what are you two bright-eyed boys doing here?" asked the man. He kept leaning forward, his eyes nearly bulging out of their sockets, his lips peeled back in a grin from ear to ear. His hair was dark and thick and shiny as an oil slick, hanging back limply over his shoulders. He was disgusting to look at. It was beautiful.

"Just trying to make a living," Miyoshi replied mildly, fingering his coffee mug. "Um, we...we're janitors. We clean up the café after everyone leaves. It's not very good pay, but we're kind of, um, bouncing back from a situation." Maeda nodded.

"A situation, huh?" The man leaned back a little. "Well, I'm not gonna pry. There's nothing I like more than to give a couple of hardworking kids like you a second chance." He scrunched his eyes up and gave a wheezy kind of chuckle,  _kheh-heh-heh_. "How would you boys like to make an awful lot of money?"

"Um..." Miyoshi glanced down at his coffee, then back up at the man. His shiny eyes were glancing at something just off-center, a little off to the side--

His heart jerked in his chest. The man was looking at his brand, peeking out from right under the sleeve of his t-shirt. Sizing him up like a piece of meat.

"I-I think we'd really like that," he finally responded. Out of the corner of his eye, Maeda gave him a look, but he couldn't tell what it was.

 

 

 

Muraoka lied. He did pry, eventually, but Miyoshi saw it coming. He knew from the moment they met that the President was going to invite him over, ply him with alcohol and ask him all kinds of questions. Now  _here_ was a monster, an honest-to-God fairy tale monster with hair like seaweed and lips like a fish, and he wanted Miyoshi at his house,  _alone._ It couldn't have been better if he'd sent him an invitation saying  _bring some salt and pepper, kid, I'm having you for dinner_.

"I told Maeda I was going for a walk," Miyoshi said. "He wanted to come, but I told him no."

"Good boy," the President purred, and Miyoshi's legs shifted together. "No harm in a boss inviting one of his employees over for a drink, hah?"

"N-no, it's totally fine," he mumbled. "It's fine."

They made small talk for a little while, meaningless things that only made Miyoshi more wonderfully, blissfully scared than before. When Muraoka finally laid one of his fingers on his flunky's suit sleeve, right where his brand was, he practically jumped a foot in the air. "Now, I don't want to be nosy," the President said, "but I like that tattoo you have,  _kheh-heh-heh._ Where'd you get it?"

"I-I, prison," Miyoshi blurted. "I mean, s-some things happened, I kind of went to a bad place--o-oh, thanks," he mumbled, his cheeks flushing red as he watched Muraoka slowly top off his glass. "Sorry, I guess I--"

" _Heh-heh_ , you have nothing to apologize for, my boy." He leaned in, his grin hovering close to Miyoshi's ear. "I completely understand! We all make mistakes, don't we?"

"Y-yeah," Miyoshi whispered, and his stomach tightened with that warm, excited feeling he'd only known once before. It was stronger now, almost painful. "U-um, Mister President."

His voice was a slither. "Yes, Miyoshi?"

"Uh, uh." He bowed his head down into his glass, his fingers tightening in the cushions. What could he possibly ask for? What did he even want?  _Please eat me up,_ he thought.  _Please bite me._

He drained his glass and came back up muttering: "Nothing, it's nothing. Um, Mister President--what else do you want to know?"

 

 

 

When he came home, Maeda was fast asleep on his futon, surrounded by beer bottles and trash. Miyoshi slipped in beside him, dazed and drunk, and reached into his boxers to grip himself tightly. 

He hissed quietly, throbbing hard in his hand, as Maeda's sleeping breath brushed over his shoulder again and again.


End file.
